


Securing a Control Freak's Heart

by thatTVfanlady1495



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Find the references!, Fluff, Implied sexy times, Song Movie and Book references, These Dorks are Adorable, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatTVfanlady1495/pseuds/thatTVfanlady1495
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara is breaking rules, and the Doctor lets her. Cuddles and Coffee are included. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Securing a Control Freak's Heart

She was abusing the power of the TARDIS. The Doctor knew it, the TARDIS knew it, and most of all, Clara knew it. But they continued to go along with it, because it made Clara happy. Well, not so much happy as less stressed about completing her work. And if Clara was happy, her thief was happy, which made the old girl more willing to accommodate their shenanigans. The TARDIS sent them into the vortex as soon as The Impossible Girl entered the console room, arms heavy with a large stack of papers that she's neglected grading for far too long. Again.

* * *

 

“Clara. You can’t keep doing this. It’s against the rules of time for me to let you cheat like this. You-“ He paused, listening to something that the sentient ship had said in his mind, and Clara took this opportunity to find the library so she could get to work before he could say anything more. “Oh now you’re helping her? What happened to you being against her? Oh? You’re doing this because it makes me happy? Do I seem happy right now? Really? We shall see about that. Someone’s bound to notice that Clara’s aging pretty rapidly for someone who’s so young. Eventually. It’s all going to catch up with us! Fine. You have it your way.” He said, his bur thick with agitation, shaking his head as he went off to the library, wanting to be close to Clara.

He wouldn’t bother her, he just preferred to be near her. A few months back, just after Christmas to be precise, they had been pushed together in a very cramped corridor of the TARDIS, where their lips met by accident. The first time they met that is. He remembered it as he roamed the vast room of shelves filled with books, searching for the one he had in mind to read today.

She opened her eyes in shock, as he stared at her, feeling her soft lips on his, feeling the all too familiar stirring in his stomach as he thought entirely too much about how close they had been.

* * *

 

She backed away (as much as this tight space would allow). “I’m sorry! I- this bloody ship! I-”

But she is cut off when he crushes his lips to hers , wanting to make her be quiet, but also wanting the feeling of her lips on his again. A surprised squeak turns into a soft moan as she melts into the kiss, tangling her fingers in his curls just the way he’d always imagined and _Gods_ she’s sucking on his lower lip. _Oh no._ All of the blood from his head has rushed to his groin, and she is so close. But he can’t act on this desire, no, this lust, that courses through him like a raging dalek.

That wouldn’t be the way. He must resist, even in this tight space. _Think of something else. Maths. Yeah. 3.1415….wait. Clara. She’s done something new. What is it? Focus! What is she doing?_ He thought as she pushed him hard against the wall behind him, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth’s estuary, her hands: one was disposed on his arse and while the other was tangled in his curls, dragging him impossibly nearer…

* * *

_And the rest is history._ He firmly thought so that he wouldn’t want to disturb Clara from the work she was doing at her antique desk in the room, bent over an essay, occasionally muttering to herself as she marked it. He’s chosen to read his weathered copy of The Great Gatsby again, because he was sure that he’d missed something. There had to be some sort of gap between Gatsby’s funeral and Nick’s slip into a drunken stupor.

He couldn’t understand the weight that carried Nick into a drunken stupor that was born from the loss of Gatsby. _They weren’t even that close_ , he thought as he read the beginning. _Just neighbors that helped each other._ _And maybe Nick was a bit too fond of a man who built his life around a lie, a faint hope for the future that could never be_. But they weren’t anything compared to he and Clara’s relationship. Loosing her, he couldn’t afford the thought of it. It would be his demise. _Whomever responsible, would be destroyed. Reduced to ashes._ His grip on the book was too hard, his hands shaking. The story. Focus on the tragedy. And the high of the era in New York City. The glamour of the parties.

Yes. He sighed as he imagined taking Clara to one of those parties, how she’d love the air of it all, how she’d get lost in wonder at the free spirit of it all. He smiled, and continued his reading. Some time later, the sound of her voice came to his ears and dragged him out of afternoon tea at Nick Carraway’s tiny abode.

* * *

 

“Doctor?” She said suddenly, pausing whatever she was listening to and taking off her headphones. He looked up from the book, and marked the page so he could pay attention to what she going to say.

“Yes Darling?”

“Will you- never mind It was a stupid question. I know the answer. I think I need a break from these horrendous essays. How about a cup of tea?” She said quickly, looking down at the essay she was currently working on. At this, the Doctor got up and crossed the room and took two slender fingers under her chin to lift it so she would meet his gaze.

“Clara. The question was bothering you enough for you to ask -the face you’re making.” He removed his fingers from under her chin. “I know it well. That’s your ‘I’m more bothered than I am letting on’ face. So let’s hear it. What’s the Doctor done to bother Clara Oswald this time?” He said, voice concerned, his mind racing to think of what he could have done to distress her.

“Oh Doctor. You haven’t done anything wrong.” she paused “ I just- I’m going to ask my question. I need you to bear with me here, because it’s a silly question. It doesn’t even have grounds to be asked. But- Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? I know. Silly of me and my human tendencies.” With her soft, almost timid tone, his demeanor softened and he cupped her face with his hands.

“Clara. My silly human Clara. Of course. Of course I’ll still love you when you age. You accepted my face when it changed. I will always do the same for you. So when yours changes, and you need more care, I’ll be there to care for you. I don’t know how you could ever doubt that.” He spoke earnestly, meaning every word, and in no way was he patronizing or teasing her pudding brained tendencies. He is just being …kind. She smiled up at him, and leaned up on her tip toes to place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

“Thanks. I- I don’t know why I needed that. You didn’t have to-“ He cut her off, voice stern.

“Yes. I did, Clara. And I think you needed that because you’re tired, and need a break from whatever horrors those essays have put you through. You can’t have that many left to grade anyway. Come on. I think you need a nice cup of coffee and a…a what is it that you call the hugging while sitting close together thing? A cuddle? Yes . A cuddle.” He smiles at himself, proud that he could remember this kind of thing.

And let’s face it, she was proud of him too. _He’s come such a long way_ , she thinks as he stands back up to his full height, and offers his hand to her. She took it, but stayed where she was, only feet from her cherry wood desk that the Doctor had put there just for her.

“That, would be lovely. I only have three more essays to work through though, so could you make the coffee awhile? We can cuddle once I’ve finished.”

“I’ll do one better. I’ll make the coffee, and bring it to you in here. You seem to need the caffeine, and I doubt that you’ll ruin any impossibly rare texts if you aren’t reading them. So this is the exception to my ‘no food or drink in the library’ rule.” Once he was through speaking, he brought his lips to the back of her hand with a grand sweeping gesture, before turning on his heel in the direction of where their kitchen (as they liked to call the kitchen that they preferred to use.) last was.

He truly could be such a romantic sap sometimes. Not that he ever let anyone else see that. The woman sighed as she sat back down in front of a particularly awful essay. It was only her, his Clara, who saw him like this. And the TARDIS of course.

About two-thirds of the way through said essay, Clara looked up at a careful shuffling sound. The Doctor was coming back into the room with two mugs of coffee, coasters, napkins and a small bowl of sugar with a spoon (in case he hadn’t put enough into her mug), all set neatly on a tea tray.

“How’s the marking going? Nearly done?” He said as he handed over her red mug.

“Yeah. The last one shouldn’t be too bad, it’s Maebh’s. Thanks for the coffee. And for, you know. Saying what you did.” She said softly, putting her hand over his where it laid on the desk.

“You’re welcome, Clara. I meant every word. I’ll be on the other end of the room, reading on the couch. Just come over when you’re done.”

“ Alright. Yeah. I’ll be over.” Clara read and marked the remains of her stack of essays. She worked hard, trying to make sure that she didn’t miss anything. She tried to grade fairly, and usually, she was more than generous. So when she was fully satisfied (after _one more_ review of each essay), it was nearly forty-five minutes later.

Clara rose from her chair, and made her way to her Doctor. Who was asleep. On the couch. Sighing, The Impossible Girl took it upon herself to take off his boots and drape a blanket over him, like he was some child that had passed out for a nap. She smiled at his relaxed state, and was about to go off to find another couch and a good book when something caught her attention.

“Clara…” The sleeping Time Lord whispered, and she was at his side again in seconds, kneeling beside the couch. “Clara… Clara …Clara …Clara…..” he continued, speaking her name like a sacred prayer, when suddenly his eyes popped open fiercely, only to soften when they focused on the woman before him. “Clara. How long have I been asleep?” He asked, and she chuckled.

“I have no idea. I just got over here. How was your cat nap?” she asked, putting her fingers into his curls, massaging his scalp just the way he liked her to. His sigh told her that this time was no exception.

“Fine. No memorable dreams, before you ask.” He said calmly, moving to sit up, sitting all the way back on the couch, patting his thighs.

“Come here. You still need that second thing on the list. The cuddling.” She giggled, and complied to his request, sitting across his lap and putting her arms around his neck. He wrapped his own arms around her upper body, left arm circling her waist, while the right cradled her head and brought their foreheads together. She found herself staring into the endless oceans that were his eyes as he rubbed their noses together in an Eskimo’s kiss.

* * *

 

This went on for awhile, him giving her little bits of intimacy, which she greedily took right away, savoring each morsel as if sampling an expensive box of chocolates.

“You’re my universe, Clara. You are worth more to me than anything else in this giant collection of rocks and dust. You woke me up after a long time of sleeping.” He spoke softly against her ear, his breath tickling the nape of her neck.

“And you, Doctor, are mine I’m more than willing to go the distance for you. I would and have broken the law for you. I’d break any number of rules if it meant you’d be safe.”

“I know, Clara. I know.” He said, shifting so he could kiss her forehead, his hand rubbing shapes into her back, and she could have sworn it was precise, and deliberate. She could remember him doing this before, but before she had had the chance to ask, she’d been…distracted by a certain _mischievous_ Time Lord. He went on for awhile, but suddenly he stopped abruptly. Now was her chance.

“What was that about? The rubbing. You’ve done it before. “ Clara asked as she looked into his eyes, watching him react, looking down and blushing deeply.

“It’s nothing. I- I like to-to write on you. I usually have already said the words in English anyway.” He says slowly, hand going back to nervously fiddle with his curls at the nape of his neck.

“In Galifreyan? I remember some of the language… from when I was...I thought it seemed familiar.” She replies, and leans over to him and plants a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Clara. I need you to get off my lap. My legs have fallen asleep.” He said with a strange note in his voice. She immediately slid off of him, and he got up to send the blood rushing back to his toes. He grunted at the uncomfortable feeling, and extended his hand to Clara.

“Come on. You humans usually eat a meal at this point in the day, right? Let’s get some of that.” He suggested, and she took his hand as acceptance of his plan.

They went off towards the kitchen together, and had a simple meal before gallivanting off to the stars for another thrilling adventure.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short one shot that grew into this monster. I hope that you enjoyed this, and would love to hear from you guys!


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